


Forgotten

by Number_Twelve



Category: Studio Ghibli - Fandom, The Cat Returns - Fandom
Genre: A few characters from Studio Ghibli, A new world, Action, Comedy (might be cheesy), F/M, Fantasy+real life, Happens around the time of The Bureau Files, Haru just HAD to fit inside the Bureau, Inspired by Studio Ghibli, LOADS of fantasy, New characters arrive (yay!), Not trying to plagerize Catsafari, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24292327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Number_Twelve/pseuds/Number_Twelve
Summary: Beatrice wakes up to find that she can neither be heard nor seen. She doesn't remember what happened to her. She can't remember her name, nor her age, and very much less her past.All she knows is that she's dead to the world...That is, the so-called real world.





	1. The 'Ghost'

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea after watching part of Howl's Moving Castle, doing a ton of research on The Cat Returns and other Studio Ghibli movies. Please leave your thoughts on the comments down below. I am open to any suggestions that could help this story get better :)
> 
> Quite sincerely,  
> Mal

The sky was painted in a light shade of orange, with mixtures of red, pink and yellow beside the sun, which was slowly making its journey into the horizon, soon to disappear and leave the world to sleep. The light breeze made the trees' leaves dance, whispering to one another as they did so. It was a beautiful setting for the start of the perfect story. Perhaps it could have been an epic romance story. Or a life story.  
But it had been nothing more than a terrifying evening for me. I had woken up in the dark, alone, feeling cold and empty. It was silent around me and the dark threatned to press into my eyes. I had managed to get myself out of what seemed to be a small box, quite narrow, the sides not big enough for me to open my arms for than half a meter. I felt trapped, so I pushed up and the top came off, showering me in the warm light of the day.

I had gotten out, my bare feet stepping onto the mud-covered ground outside the box. I looked around me, and found myself standing in a big place with slabs of rock jutting out of the floor, letters insignificant to me. I couldn't remember how I had gotten there in the first place, but I didn't really feel any terrible need to find out yet. I wanted to get out of that place as soon as possible. I walked for what I thought was the exit, hearing echoes and whispers come from under my feet. I could hear what seemed to be people singing, I could hear soft talking...  
I could hear many things. I continued to walk, and I saw a woman kneeling down in front of a slab, head bowed and eyes closed as her lips moved in silent prayer, her eyes shedding tears. My heart filled with pity, and I walked over to her, laying a calming hand on her shoulder. I felt a shiver travel through her, but she didn't lift her head up to me. I left her to pray, moving away to the exit and slipping past the open gates. Like I mentioned before, it had been a beautiful evening. The sky was beautiful, the noises of joy were beautiful. I continued to walk, my brown curls swiming in the light breeze behind me. 

I then wondered were I was. I turned to a young man who sta on a bench, texting on his phone.

"Excuse me? Could you tell me where I am?" I asked. I waited for a response and it didn't come. The man's fingers continued to dance over his phone, ignoring me. I moved away from him, feeling slightly hurt. I turned to an older woman, who might have been in the mid sixties.

"Hello? Could you please tell me where I am?" I asked, standing directly in front of her. She stared right through me, not seeming to have heard me. I frowned, waving an arm in front of her.

"Hello? Please?" Nothing. I turned around to a mother and her children, walking to them.

"Hey, could you-" I was abruptly cut off when they walked right past me, without sparing me a single glance. I stood there, watching them disappear down the path. I felt offended. Why was no one listening to me? I tried a few other people and again and again the same thing happened. None of them heard me. I was getting ignored. No one noticed the girl lost admist them. I tried getting their attention in any way I could; I tried to speak to them, tapping their shoulders. When neither of these worked, I tried screaming.  
I wasn't given a single look.  
I walked arounf the park with broken hopes and a heavy heart, desperately trying to get someone to see me. I couldn't get anyone's attention. It was as if I were invisible to the world. In the end, I sat at the foot of an oak, hugging my knees to try to steady myself. At first, I watched people pass, waiting for someone's eyes to land on me. For someone to say, "Hey, are you lost?". I waited for it to happen... but it didn't. In the end, my tears finally broke free, streaming down my cheeks. I buried my face in my arms, hiding each sob that racked through me.

How I just wished that someone would just come up to me and ask me if I was okay.

Hours passed and the people began to leave the park. Soon, I seemed to be the only one left. I lifted my red face from my knees in time to see the sun disappear into the horizon, leaving the world in semi darkness. I was about to bury my head once more when the wind suddenly picked up strength. I heard a loud snap and one of the streetlights by the path flickered on, crearing a circle of light around it. I saw the shape of a man walking along it. He seemed to be wearing a top hat and a coat. I watched him as he snapped his fingers and the next streetlight turned on. He continued to walk, and wirh each snap of his fingers, a new streetlight turned on. He neared me, and as yet another streetlight turned on, I was able to see him a little better. His main characteristic were his oval shaped, pitch black eyes, which reminded me of a 1930s character (how I remembered that, I do not remember). He had a rather long nose that reminded me of a bird and shoulder-length black, sleek hair. He was wearing a light grey-blue coat with top hat and trousers to match, as well as an emerald green vest under the coat that matched his hat's ribon. He snapped his long fingers and another streetlight turned on. I wondered if he would see me.  
I didn't let myself hope too much, even if it was weighting down upon my heart. I stood and approached him, feeling rather messy, dressed in an old maroon jacket, white shirt and jeans.

"Hello?" I said in a soft voice. The man turned to me with a jump. When he saw me, he laughed. It was a sweet, soft laugh that could be compared to a harp.

"Ah, you gave me a fright. How may I help you, young Miss?" he asked, giving me an old fashioned bow and tipping his hat. I blinked.

"You... you can see me?" I asked in a whisper.

"Why wouldn't I be able to? I see you all right, clear as the day." he said. I was speechless for a while, unable to tell whether this was really happening or not.

"Please... could you tell me where I am?" I manage to ask.

"This is Harrinson Park, dear. I believe you are from the Cementery?" he asked. I frowned.

"Cementery?" 

"Yes, just a few minutes away from here." he nodded at the way I had come from. "But you don't look very dead to me. On the contrary, alive and kicking, my friend, with the lively quality of a 'ghost'. Of course, not what these humans think they are. An actual ghost, I mean." I took a shuddering breath.

"This... this must be a dream." I murmured.

"I can safely asure you not. I have been here ever since I left my homeland. Ordinary and nearly devoid of any magic in particular, but it will be easy to look for her." The man said.

"I don't understand." I said. I could already feel the tears coming along with my confusion.

"Let me start again. My name is George Heffling, the Lighter. Pleasure to meet you, Miss..." 

The name suddenly jumped to my lips without me thinking of it. "Beatrice."

He smiled at me. "Miss Beatrice. Like I said, I believe you must have come from the cementery."

I could feel myself start to shake. "You mean... like I am dead?"

George laughed. "Dead? That only happens to regular humans. They become trapped in cementeries or wherever they have been buried in for the rest of their deaths. But you must have a special quality to allow you to remain like this, which probably makes you from our own world. Did you wake at the cementery?" 

"Yes... but no one could see me." I replied. The man patted my shoulder sympathetically.

"You must have brought up here. When you 'died', our world reclaimed you, which is why you are here now." he explained. 

"So... I am not dead?" 

"To this world, you are dead. They won't see you, hear you or feel you. You are simply an echo of the Human World's history." George said. "But to folks like myself and humans with trully open minds and hearts, my friend, you are very much alive." I remained quiet for some time.

"This... this is all very confusing." I murmured. "I can't remember anything but my name and age. How is that possible?" 

"Your memory will soon come back to you. Bit by bit, it will, but it's a long process. It usually takes about a month or so, but it can be dangerous and it isn't easy." George said. I bit my lower lip.

"But... now I am an echo here. I am no longer alive and I have no recolection of my past. What am I supposed to do? Just wait for my memories to show up once more?" I asked. 

"That's what I did when I became an echo. I remained in wait for my lost one to return to me. As for you, my friend, I don't know what to suggest. However," he added, "I have a few friends who might be able to help you." 

"Really? Who are they?"

"They call themselves The Cat Bureau. Their base is in Tokyo, but we can get there in no time." George said.

"You... you will help me?" 

"As much as I can, Miss Beatrice. But tonight, I must finish my chore. Meet me at the cementery in exactly ten minutes and then we will be on our way to the Bureau." 

"Thank you so much." 

George smiled, tipping his hat. The he returned to turning the streetlights on and I walked back to the cementery I had waken from, feeling empty and blank without any memories to fill me in about my past. 

As I returned to the cementery, I thought I saw something watching me in the dark. Some kind of feeling-- as if someone had ran the tip of their fingers down my back-- hit me. I got the instintive feeling that it wouldn't be safe outside the cementery until George came to get me. I quickly slipped in through the closed gates and looked back to see if something had been following me. I saw nothing in the dark, but I could feel its eyes upon me.


	2. Chapter 2

I sat next to what I supposed was my grave, my legs drawn up cclose to my chest and my arms wraped about them. I felt scared, since I knew that there was something outside the walls, and something in the back of my head-- like a sixth feeling-- was telling me that if I ever got this feeling I should get to a cementery as soon as possible. I clutched my legs tighter, shivering against the cold breeze. I heard the gate creak open and then closed and looked up to see George walking in with an old fashioned lamp in his hand.

"Are you ready?" he asked as he approached me. I got to my feet with a shaky nod. 

"What should I expect?" I asked. Was it just a trick of the light, or was the lamp burning brighter with each passing beat?

"A dangerous journey. I thought I saw a Soul Eater just outside the gates. They don't attack fully, memory developed folks, but they will go for the easier prey. That is, lost human souls and folks like you." George said. "But not to worry; with me, you will be safer. It will be a slightly rough journey to Japan, but it will be quick and we shall be stting at the Bureau and sipping tea." he said with a smile. 

"Alright. I trust you." I said. "What do I do?" 

"Just take my hand and don't let go." he said, offering me his free hand. I took it, and I noticed that the lamp was glowing even brighter than before. I tilted my head.

"Why is the lamp so bright?" I asked.

"It has to be if we don't want to get lost. Are you ready?" George asked. I nodded, steeling myself for whatever was to come. He held the lamp higher and began to mutter under his breath. I found that his gloved hand had tightened on mine, so I couldn't help do the same. I felt my feet begin to sink into the ground and looked at my companion to see that the light was shining even brighter. I took a shuddering breath as the muddy ground raised above me. I shut my eyes for no reason, simply because it felt safer, and then my bare feet finally touched the ground gently. I opened my eyes to see George's lamp held up high to cast powerful light around us. 

We seemed to be underground. Or at least, not above ground. The walls of the tunnel had been neatly dug out and there were many round, wooden doors with words carved into them. I wasn't able to make out most of them, but they seemed to be names-- and numbers.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice echoing back at me.

"Not so loud, Miss Beatrice." George muttered. "This is what the cementery looks like underground. Human souls can then move around if they do not wish to remain in their tombs."

"Will they see us?" I asked in a quiet voice.

"Yes, but they already know me." George said. He began to walk forward, pulling me along with him. I fell into step next to him, looking at all the different doors. I coukd hear murmurs, faint laughs and music. It was as if the graveyard was alive. The light fell over a silvery being floating along the tunnel, making me jump. It was an old lady, wearing a straw hat with some pretty ornaments in it. She smiled at the pair.

"Good evening, George." she said in a gentle voice. George tipped his top hat in greeting.

"Good evening, Miss Fisherman. How are you?"

"Quite fine, thank you. I am going to see my son next door." 

"Say hello to him from me." George smiled and so did Miss Fisherman, wobbling along. We continued to walk until George stopped in front of a door. 

"Only we can see this door," he said. "It's one of the many that leads to the Sanctuary."

"Is that the Bureau's base?" I asked as he let go of my hand and lay his on the doorknob.

"Yes." he said. "You might want to hold onto my arm..." I did just as he turned the doorknob. He pushed the door open and a gust of wind slapped my face, making me wince. We stood in fronto of a swirling, blue and white sea of energy (at least, that's what it looked like). George checked to see if my arm was looped around his before taking a step in. I followed as the door slammed shut behind us, throwing us in.

Soon we were floating down (rather quickly) past different doors. George still held the lamp, which had gotten blown out. I held on tight to his arm, feeling the gravity pull me down against my wishes. Then we landed in fronto of a emerald green door, which my companion was quick to open. He stepped outside and I followed suit, jumping as the door was slammed with force behind me. I looked around me and saw that we were standing in a beautiful, little house. It's walls were cream yellow and the furtniture was neatly and beautifully made. A chandelier hung from the high ceiling and there was a sort of cat walk serving as a second floor, a railing framing it. But the oddest things were the little house's occupants.

"We are closed." a cream white, fat cat grumbled from his seat at a velvety green couch, half his face hidden by a newspaper. 

"Muta, that's no proper way to treat costumers." My mouth nearly dropped open when a half cat, half human walked into my sight. He had a cat's face and tail, covered in neat, pale ginger fur. His eyes were emerad green and they seemed to gleam in the dim light. He was wearing a red vest over a white shirt and a pair of light grey trousers. In one of his gloved hands, he was holding a teacup, filled up with what looked like tea.  
Right.  
The Cat Bureau.

"Trust the puddingface to be rude to costumers, Baron." A great, black crow that was twice my size sat on the railings of the second floor just in front of a pair of great windows letting in part of the light. 

"Shut up, Birdbrain." the cat, Muta, snapped, looking up from his newspaper with a scowl.

"You've used that insult for the last decade, marshmallow." the crow replied. It suddenly struck me that this was something that didn't happen rarely.

"Not now, guys." A girl-- the only normal looking one-- said from her seat, a big armchair. It was strange that she seemed smaller than Muta. I frowned.

"Is this the Cat Bureau you told me about?" I asked George doubtfuly.

"Yes. Welcome back to the Bureau, George." the half cat said with an accent. "It has been some time."

"I have been busy, my friend. This is Beatrice." George motioned to me.

"A pleasure, Miss Beatrice. Is there anything we can help you two with?" the half cat asked. 

"Yes." I said. 

"You must have come from a far away place. Would you like some tea while we talk about it?" George took off his top hat with a grateful smile.

"It would be a pleasure, Baron." he said.


End file.
